


Midnight Caller

by LaLainaJ



Series: Make Some Noise [148]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Banter, Bribery, Cunnilingus, F/M, Ghost!Kol, Smut, Talking To Dead People
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 03:50:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15040058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: Caroline's adjusted to Kol, her annoying ghostly visitor. When Kol's brother, very much alive and interested in what Caroline can do, shows up in the middle of the night things get complicated.





	Midnight Caller

**Midnight Caller**

**(Prompt: #45 from the smut prompt list was Bump In The Night. In this one Caroline sees dead people and Kol's not on board with being dead. Enter Klaus. SMUT)**

She doesn't hear the footsteps on the balcony. Kol does. At least he's good for something.

Kol's her newest guest, a term Caroline uses loosely. Dead people have been camping out near her, refusing to leave her alone until she'd settled their unfinished business, since she'd hit puberty. It's not something she advertises (having no desire to be committed) but it's become Caroline's normal.

She'd been shipped off to live with her dad shortly after she first started talking to someone no one else can see. Psychic abilities came from  _his_  side of the family tree. In the fifteen or so years she's been dealing with the recently departed Caroline's learned some control, can usually banish her visitors (temporarily) when she really needs a little me time.

Key word: usually. Kol's made of more stubborn stuff than any spirit she's ever encountered. He's her first vampire and Caroline kind of hopes he's her last given what a giant pervy nuisance he is.

It's late and she's treating herself to a midnight snack, vaguely listening to Kol recount centuries old exploits (something about witches and naked moon rituals – she assumes he's greatly exaggerating). He stops the story abruptly, her first clue that something is amiss. Kol really likes the sound of his own voice.

He moves through her and Caroline yelps at the sudden chill. He doesn't give her time to complain. "Grab a knife, darling. You've got company."

He's rigid, staring at the curtains over the sliding glass doors that lead to her balcony. Caroline scoffs, "What, are you crazy? I'm on the twelfth floor. There's a doorman. If someone managed to pass him there are three locks on the door."

She's barely finished speaking when there's a loud crunch, the sound of metal grinding. Caroline gapes as her curtains are flung aside, a man stepping into her living room. Belatedly, she follows Kol's advice, cursing herself for leaving her phone charging in her bedroom. Caroline lunges for the block of knives. It falls over with a clatter but she scrambles for one. She turns back to the intruder, squinting into the darkness. She can't make out many details, but he doesn't look overly large or hulking.

She might be able to take him.

He also doesn't seem to be in any hurry and he stops next to an end table, flicking on a lamp.

Puzzling, but Caroline's not exactly an expert on the dos and don'ts of home invasions.

Kol lets out an irritated groan but Caroline doesn't tear her eyes away from the intruder. She takes a careful step forward, making sure the knife is visible. She's about to demand this guy get the hell out but Kol distracts her, "Might as well put that down."

"What?" Caroline snaps.

In the lamp's light she can see the intruder's about her age. She eyes his face for a long moment, notes the stubble and the full lips, the slight curl of his hair. Hopefully the cops have a decent sketch artist on the payroll. He's not wearing what she'd have expected a burglar to, his jeans, grey long sleeved shirt and heavy boots a far cry from the all black ensembles criminals in the movies favor. She doesn't see any weapons and he seems to be studying her closely.

"The knife," Kol says, nodding down at her hand. "It won't do you any good. You could stab him a dozen times and it wouldn't slow him down. He might even like it."

"That's crazy."

"That's my brother," Kol informs her. "Crazy is one of the nicer things he's been called. And you're prettier than his usual attempted murderer."

Trust Kol to  _still_  be trying to get into her pants.

"I think," Kol's brother says, slow and a touch mystified, "that talking to oneself is generally considered crazy, is it not?"

"Nik or Elijah?" she asks, though from Kol's descriptions and the inquiries she's made with Chicago's local witch population she has a pretty good idea of who she's dealing with. Elijah Mikaelson's sartorial choices are notorious.

The intruder's eyes narrow and he eases forward, stepping onto the kitchen linoleum. Caroline backs up until she's pressed against the cupboards. "Klaus," he corrects softly. "To those I'm not well acquainted with. And I don't believe we've been introduced though my sources tell me you've been looking for me. Do you want to tell me why, love?"

"So paranoid," Kol mutters.

"Not helping," Caroline hisses.

Kol sighs, "When I was about nine, I stole two of my father's best swords and coaxed Nik into the woods to spar with them. When out mother called for us Nik was distracted and I sliced his side quite deeply. Enough for the scar to remain after we turned."

Caroline repeats the story, watches the faintest flicker of surprise cross Klaus Mikaelson's face. She assumes it's a rare sight.

"Probably lucky he was part wolf, in hindsight," Kol continues. "Healed up without getting infected. Father would have beaten us something awful had he found out. Beat Nik the next day for being slow at his chores as it was."

Caroline presses her lips together, decides keeping that part to herself might be the wisest course of action.

"Caroline Forbes, Medium." Klaus says. "That's what your business cards say."

She inclines her head but stays silent, watchful. She's endured a ton of skepticism about her line of work over the years and its long since stopped bothering her. The fact that Klaus had studied up on her is interesting, she's not sure if that should alarm her further or not.

"You can communicate with the dead. A useful skill."

Caroline snorts and Klaus flashes a quick smile of amusement. "I've managed to  _make_  it a useful skill. Once upon a time I might have been burned at the stake."

"That's true, I suppose. You've been looking for me because…"

"Because your brother is a giant pain in my ass. He never shuts up. I put on a movie and he has eleventy billion questions. I go to the grocery store, and he wants to know why everything comes in packages. When we come home, he wants to know why the food doesn't look like the pictures  _on_  the packages. I go on a date and he has opinions. The only way I'm going to be able to have a little peace is if I figure out his unfinished business and set him loose in the world."

"Hurtful," Kol whines. "I thought we'd become friends."

"Friends don't pop into friend's showers," Caroline admonishes. Not for the first time.

Klaus has moved past disbelief. Caroline gives him points for speed but maybe the fact that he's a supernatural creature that shouldn't exist gives him an edge. He looks interested, head tipped to the side as he watches her, a calculating gleam in his eyes. "Kol's here? Now?"

"Yep."

"Where did he die?"

Caroline looks to Kol who's eyes have rolled up to the ceiling. "Mystic Falls, Virginia."

Huh. Her hometown. That pings her weird o'meter a bit. Caroline repeats Kol's words but Klaus is not yet satisfied. Kol hadn't been kidding about the paranoia.

"Before Mystic Falls, where was he daggered?"

She doesn't need to prompt Kol this time, he's rattling off the info immediately. "New Orleans. Because I was a bad influence on poor, sweet, Marcellus. When really, I was just trying to make the boy appreciate the classics."

She senses a story, one she's sure she doesn't actually want to hear. Dutifully, she answers Klaus' question.

He nods, seemingly satisfied. Caroline relaxes, the knife dropping slightly. Now they're finally getting somewhere. Her relief is short lived, however. Klaus lowers herself onto her couch, crossing an ankle over his opposite knee and leaning back. "I'll give you an hour to pack up your things, love. Plan to be a gone a couple of weeks."

Caroline sputters, too shocked to formulate a denial. Klaus' lips curl, his eyes wandering down her body, lingering on the hem of her sleep shorts and the bare length of her thigh. "It's a bit chilly in Edinburgh this time of year. Best bring some sweaters."

She grits her teeth together, carefully setting the knife aside lest she give into the temptation to throw it at his stupid smug face. "I have a séance tomorrow."

"Cancel it. I'll gladly cover your usual fees. A thousand dollars a night, yes? We'll make it five thousand a day, hmm?"

She blinks, her mind doing the mental calculations. A few weeks meant at least three, right? Who couldn't use an extra hundred grand? Still, there's no need to be a pushover.

"Ten," she states, assuming he'll counter.

He doesn't, his expression growing pleased. "Done. And at the end, should we manage to return Kol to the land of the living, I'll even throw in an apartment. Anywhere you'd like."

"I like this place," Caroline spits, offended. It's a little small, sure, and the windows really need to be replaced, but it has character. Mr. Anderson had owned his apartment since the 1940's, lovingly kept it up. When he'd died he'd come to Caroline and she'd helped his children sort out his affairs. They'd been grateful enough to let her rent the place for a fraction of what they could have charged.

"It is beautiful," he allows. "But it's not in your name. Any vampire could just waltz in and they're not all as friendly as I."

"Friendly," Kol mocks. "My arse. I cannot  _believe_  he's flirting with you."

"Yeah, an inability to grasp appropriate times and places must be genetic."

Kol pastes on an exaggeratedly wounded expression, his hand coming to rest on his chest. She walks away from him, knowing that her laughter will only encourage him. Caroline plants her hands on her hips. "I don't have a passport."

Klaus is unconcerned, "We'll not be flying commercial."

Well, he just had an answer for everything, didn't he? "I can't just leave the country at the snap of  _your_  fingers."

He stands quickly, a lithe movement that has them nose to nose. Caroline sucks in a surprised inhale and his hand skims her bare arm, fingers wrapping just below her elbow, before she can stumble back. "Why ever not? Does my reputation precede me? Or has Kol been telling tales?"

"A little of column A, a lot of column B."

Kol's huffs in outrage, "Thanks, Darling. I'm going to get a dagger in the chest as soon as a draw a breath now."

Whoops. Caroline will have to make sure that doesn't happen.

"It's been ages since I've killed anyone who hadn't been trying to kill me," Klaus says. "Now that I know you're not plotting my death you're perfectly safe."

Caroline's eyebrows shoot up, and she doesn't try to hide her incredulousness, "I'm sorry, is that supposed to be convincing? It's really not."

Kol steps back into her line of sight. "While I'm rarely on Nik's side I have to point out that the fact that he's not just compelled you is truly impressive Shows he might actually be trying here."

It's a decent point, Caroline can admit. She can't be compelled (thanks, Dad) but it's not something either Kol or Klaus would know. Caroline has always figured out such an ability might piss off the vampires so she's kept it to herself. Klaus is still standing too close to her, the warmth he throws off distracting. Stepping back now would be weakness so Caroline crosses her arms, fighting a flinch when they rest against the firm wall of his chest. "What's in Edinburgh?"

"Witches," Klaus answers.

"My witches," Kol chimes in.

She twists her head to look at him, "The naked harvest moon orgy witches?"

Kol preens, "The very same."

"Gross."

"How long has my brother been with you, love?" Klaus asks. When she faces him again his face has gone curious, if a bit tighter around the jaw. She can't help but note it does good things for his already unfairly nice bone structure.

"God, I'm not even sure. Four months? No, wait. Five."

He wets his lower lip and her eyes drop to watch. He presses closer, draws her hand between both of his. She hears Kol make a noise that might be disgust. "Surely," Klaus says, his tone low and coaxing, "That's long enough? Come with me, Caroline."

She's caving, and quickly. Her fingers twitch and Klaus strokes her palm, the caress sending a subtle shiver through her. "I am not," Caroline says, stiffening her suddenly melt-y spine, and making it sound as stern as she's able, "participating in any witch orgies."

Klaus' agreement is instant, "No. No, you won't be."

"I hate you both," Kol grouses and stalks away.

Caroline barely hears him.

* * *

It's a long trip – 7 hours on a plane, a two hour drive into the Scottish countryside. Caroline's drowsing in the backseat, slumped against the window. She grumbles when the road gets bumpy, tucks a jaw-cracking yawn into her shoulder. Klaus is next to her, his eyes on his phone. "We're nearly there. You'll have a proper bed soon."

"His, probably," Kol mutters. Caroline kicks the back of his seat even though she knows his non corporeal body won't notice. Klaus has been a constant, solicitous presence at her side. He hasn't let her carry a thing, had made sure the plane was stocked with all manner of snacks both healthy and not. He'd gotten her talking, asked her questions about her background, education, hobbies. He hadn't pressed when she'd been vague, had seemed genuinely interested. She's not entirely sure why since her services have been bought and paid for.

He'd made a deposit into her account shortly after they'd taken off, promised he'd add more if they hadn't solved the Kol situation in a week. Caroline had played it cool while mentally planning a serious shopping trip when she was stateside again while lamenting the fact that her lack of passport means she can't take a trip to Paris or Milan.

She's going to buy herself a giant pile of pretty things. After she's boring and responsible and tops up her savings account, of course.

The car rolls to a stop and Caroline gapes at the stone building in front of her – no one had mentioned they were going to an actual freaking castle. Her door's thrown open immediately, a blonde she hadn't seen approaching the car ducking down. She wrinkles her nose when she sees Caroline, "Who is this?"

Klaus sighs and then he's out of the car and at her door too, yanking the woman aside. "This is Caroline. She's the tether. Be nice, Bekah. Or else."

"What? Tether?" Caroline asks. This is the first she's heard of it.

"No one said the tether was a person," the woman counters, ignoring Caroline entirely.

Kol shifts in the front seat, twisting to look at Caroline. "That's my sister."

"Rebekah. I figured."

"I'd like to say she's more pleasant once you get to know her but that would be a lie. If anything she becomes more grating."

Caroline bites her lip against a smile, sensing that Rebekah Mikaelson's not the kind of girl who likes to be laughed at. She takes Klaus' offered hand, letting him help her out of the car. She stretches once she's upright and Rebekah's face twists in distaste at the cracking of her spine.

Caroline refuses to apologize for her human bones. "What do you mean tether?" she presses.

It's Kol who answers. He's gotten out and passes his hand over Rebekah's face, smirking as she yelps and dances backwards before giving Caroline his attention. "I assumed you knew. Vampires don't generally linger after death, a side effect of already being dead. I felt you, just before I faded. Latched on. Didn't you feel it?"

Caroline shakes her head. She's dealt with hundreds of spirits and it's always been described more like happenstance. They wandered, unable to move on, were drawn to her when they were near. It's happened more frequently since she'd left Mystic Falls but Caroline had assumed it was a side effect of living somewhere more populous. Maybe she'd been wrong and the spirits were finding her. Kol had been a couple states away, had ended up in bedroom immediately after he'd died. Was she some kind of beacon for dead people?

"How?" Caroline asks, mystified.

Kol's reply is oddly gentle, "I suspect you're more powerful than you know."

She takes a second to digest that, finds it hard to believe. "I just talk to dead people. That's it."

"Have you ever tried to do more?" Klaus interjects and she's not surprised he'd been following her and Kol's conversation. He's proven to have a knack for it over the last half-day. "One of your ancestors was a well-known necromancer, you know."

Caroline hadn't known, actually. Hadn't known that raising the dead was a thing at all. She makes a mental note to have a chat with her dad. She's more than old enough to know all the family dirt.

"I've never… I have no idea…"

Klaus takes pity on her, resting his hand on the small of her back when her floundering falls silent. He gently guides her to the stone pathway that leads to the castle's massive double doors. "We can talk when you've rested. There's no rush, sweetheart."

Rebekah objects, her voice harsh, "Pardon me but there is  _some_  rush, Nik."

"Elijah won't be here with Kol's remains until tomorrow. It'll keep."

"Aw," she hears Kol drawl, "I didn't know you cared, sister dear. Give us a hug."

A high pitched squeal sounds, complaints about being freezing follow, and Klaus sighs, long and exasperated. "It's so much more peaceful when they're tucked all nicely in their coffins."

She elbows him, too sleepy to put much force into it. She's certain he's not entirely serious, that there's a distinct note of fondness under the annoyance. Her steps slow, her body feeling heavy and she murmurs a protest when Klaus swings her into his arms.

Not that it does much good as she's too busy nuzzling into his throat to make it believable.

The next morning, waking up bundled in silky soft sheets, she has no recollection of getting into bed but it's easily the nicest one she's ever slept in.

* * *

She cracks at the end of week two.

At first the crash course in the mechanics of necromancy had been kind of fun. Caroline's always down to learn new skills. The first time she'd gone through the meditation steps with the elder of the coven Kol claimed as his, when she'd tapped into a power she hadn't known existed, she'd felt exhilarated. Invincible.

Controlling it has turned out to be more difficult.

And frustrating. It's been a long time since she's struggled so hard to pick something up, and her repeated failures are bringing back unpleasant memories and insecurities.

She ignores the voices behind her as she storms off, Kol's cajoling, the old witch's heavy with censure. She can't understand what the third voice is saying – Kol had informed her the spirit was speaking Gaelic when she'd managed to repeat a few words – but she imagines the poor, long dead, guy is mostly confused. She imagines being raised from the dead is jarring.

She'll put him back later, once she's calmed down.

Her legs are shaky, her hands balled into tight fists as she stalks away from the tiny cemetery. She debates heading towards the road, walking until she's worked off her temper.

Decides against it. Exercise won't cut it. She needs a drink. A big one, the kind that numbs your tongue and burns going down, clearing out all the mental fuzz. The sort of alcohol that's too good to sit in a regular 'ol bottle.

Klaus has a whole cart full of fancy crystal decanters set up in the room he's claimed as an office. He's been making himself scarce, something Caroline's kind of pissed about.

Clearly he'd just been buttering her up that first day, laying on the charm in hopes she'd do his bidding, a little insurance policy in case the money he'd been throwing at her wasn't enough.

What a dick.

She'll swipe a bottle or two and head to her bathroom, laze around in the tub for a while.

Klaus is in the room when she walks in, his boots on the edge of the heavy wooden desk as he talks into the phone. He smiles, as if he's pleased to see her, and Caroline shoots him a glare and makes a beeline for the booze. She hears Klaus end his call but she doesn't look at him, too busy uncorking bottles and sniffing in an attempt to figure out which one will get the job done quickest.

The third one has her reeling back, choking while her eyes water, and she decides it's the winner. She's lifting it, ready to make her escape, when she feels Klaus approach. "Rough session?" he asks, sounding sympathetic.

"Yup," Caroline clips out. "But don't worry, I'll be back in good little minion mode tomorrow. Feel free to go back to ignoring my existence and tending to important things."

Klaus shifts, a hand pressing into the wall, blocking her escape route. "My. Such hostility."

Caroline swallows, forcing down a noise that would have betrayed her annoyance. She doesn't turn, staring resolutely at the bottles in front of her, and pitches her voice sunny sweet, "Hostile? Me? Not at all. Would you please get out of my way? I have plans and you're interrupting them."

"Not my intention but your entrance was excellent timing. I was just speaking to the realtor I'd engaged for your final payment. Thought you might like to look at your options."

Caroline sighs, turning slowly. She fixes her gaze upwards, over his left shoulder. "I want a walk in closet, a giant bathtub, and a terrace. Pick the swankiest place in Chicago with those three things and I'll deal."

"So you're committed to Chicago, then? I had them pull listings in a number of cities."

Caroline doesn't remember that being part of the deal. She narrows her eyes, finds Klaus' face set to an expression of angelic innocence that is just plain weird and wrong. "What cities?" she asks suspiciously.

"New York, Atlanta. San Francisco and Los Angeles. New Orleans."

He says it like an afterthought but Caroline knows it's not. Her irritation boils hotter, edging towards anger. She steps closer to him, her words venomous, "New Orleans? The city you lord over? What, you want a little pocket necromancer in case someone you like gets dead again?" She rips the stopper out of the bottle, flinging it aside carelessly. There's a crash and something breaks but neither of them pull away from their stare off to inestigate. "Or do you just want an insurance policy for when you get murder-y?" Caroline takes a swig, offers Klaus the bottle with a brittle smile.

He takes it, doesn't drink. He's got a funny little smirk on his face, his blue eyes bright with something that looks suspiciously like glee. "I'm sensing you're a bit upset with me, love. Might I ask why?"

She regrets handing off the bottle, wishes she had something to do with her hands. "I don't like being used," she snaps. "Or manipulated."

"I think I've been perfectly transparent."

A disgusted noise slips out and she tries to shove passed him. Klaus grabs her arm, his grip gentle but unbreakable. His thumb drags over the fabric of her jacket idly. "If you're angry about how little time I've spent with you, I assure you that it wasn't my choice."

Embarrassment hits her first, because she hates that she's so easy to read. Then surprise. "Excuse me?"

Klaus rests his free hand on her hip, the other drifting up her arm. He draws her closer, inch by inch. Caroline's heartbeat picks up, "I was told you needed to concentrate, that I was a distraction."

Okay, now she's offended. She doesn't break his hold though, lifting her hands to rest on his chest. She's not dumb enough to turn down the form of stress relief she thinks Klaus is offering. "Geez. Someone thinks highly of himself."

She's teasing now and Klaus grins, crowding closer, pressing himself along the length of her. "Oh, undoubtedly. Be honest with me. Do I distract you, Caroline?"

"Maybe. A little tiny bit. But who says that's a bad thing? All work and no play and all that."

Klaus head dips, his mouth landing on her throat. Lips first, soft and shiver inducing. Then his tongue, tracing her pulse, a faint hum of pleasure rumbling from him. His hand winds into her hair, tugging until she tips her head back. His stubble scrapes her delicate skin as he works his way up. His words are rougher when he gets to her ear, "Are you saying I owe you a bit of play, love?"

She shudders when his teeth sink into her lobe, just as he lifts her and sets her on his desk. She hadn't even realized they'd been moving. "I won't say  _owe_ , but if you want…"

"Oh, I want," he rasps. Her thighs part as he leans into her, knees clinging to his hips as he sets his mouth to hers. The kiss is hot, wet and urgent, Klaus' grip on her hair tightening when she welcomes his tongue into her mouth. There's no teasing, just a steady claiming, their kiss growing fast and frantic, and Caroline sinks into it willingly, running her hands over his back, wanting him closer. She moans a protest when he makes to pull back. Klaus is stronger, insistent, and he eases away, sitting down on one of the leather chairs, looking up at her with eyes just beginning to turn gold. His grasp her hips, thumbs stroking under her top. Her abs tighten and she arches towards him. He drags her to the edge of the desk, flicking open the button of her jeans. "Take your jacket off. Shirt too."

Caroline doesn't hesitate, shimmying out of the fabric. Her bra is pretty pink lace and she doesn't need to look down to know her nipples are visible, hard points behind the sheer fabric. Klaus' mouth is there immediately, rasping the lace against the sensitive peak. She grips the back of his neck when he rolls her nipple between his teeth, hips shifting in hopes of encouraging his hands to move lower.

He pulls back, watching her hungrily, lips redder than before. Caroline's hands shake as she pushes her bra straps aside. He smiles, kisses her sternum as the lace falls away, "You're every bit as lovely as I'd imagined," he murmurs.

Gratifying, considering it's been him in her imagination these last few nights while she's twisted in her sheets with her fingers teasing her clit.

His mouth wraps around her other nipple, the sharp suction making her cry out, and he eases the zipper of her jeans down. He cups the back of her knees as he kisses down her stomach, lifting her feet so they rest on the arms of his chair. His hands slide up her thighs, "Up," he urges, fingers curling in the waistband of her panties.

Caroline braces her hands on the desk behind her, lifting enough so he can peel the rest of her clothes away. He tosses them aside, leaning down to kiss her knee, pressing her thighs wider. She tenses slightly, face heating as she realizes how exposed she is, how slick she's become. How much she aches for him is about to be embarrassingly obvious. Klaus makes a soft noise of admonishment, teeth sinking into her inner thigh. "No shame, sweetheart. Not about this."

His thumb strokes her open before she can reply and then his mouth is on her, lips pressing against her clit. She trembles, her hands curling around the edge of the desk and Klaus licks her wet flesh, gently exploring. He presses harder when she twitches, flicks faster when she makes a noise. He teases out her secrets, all the places that have her clenching down, sweet and slow. She begins to pant when he presses a finger inside of her and she's writhing by the time he gives her another.

Klaus, however, is in no hurry. His eyes are hot and focused, watching her intently as she loses her mind against his too clever mouth.

She whimpers when his lips leaves her though he doesn't go far. He mouths at her thigh, his fingers curling inside of her. She feels the sharp points of his fangs, dragging along her soft skin, is surprised that she's not afraid. There might even be a trickle of intrigue. Caroline swallows hard, "Are you going to bite me?"

"Not today," Klaus says, his voice rough. "Not until you want me to. Until you ask me to." His thumb rubs over her clit and Caroline's legs start to shake, the rush of pleasure just beginning to wash over her. Her back bows as she chases is, grinding against Klaus' hand, her own coming up to pull at her nipple.

"That's it," he says, mouth dragging over stomach, his eyes on her face. "Let go for me."

She calls his name as the pleasure intensifies, slumping forward and steadying herself on his tense shoulders. She shudders through it, breath coming in jagged bursts. A giggle spills out as she comes down and she covers her mouth with her hands, eyes widening. Klaus doesn't look offended – a perk of his giant ego – quirking a curious brow. "Something funny?"

She shakes her head, pressing her lips together to hide a smile. "Ignore me. This just so wasn't what I had planned for this afternoon."

He stands and Caroline grabs his shirt, slipping her hands underneath. He leans into her touch and Caroline takes the opportunity to explore, tracing the contours of his leanly muscled torso greedily. He has her naked on his desk so she figures she's entitled to a little groping. "And what were your plans?"

Caroline shrugs, "Overindulging in your pricy booze. Sulking in my bathtub."

Klaus grins, "That has potential."

The next thing Caroline knows she's wrapped around him and they're speeding up the stairs. She squeaks indignantly, her thighs squeezing him tightly. "Klaus, I am  _naked_ ," she protests. He lets her fall, just a bit, until his cock is pressed against where she's still wet and sensitive. Caroline's shudders and she rubs herself against him instinctively, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I am  _well_  aware," he says.

It doesn't take long to get to her bedroom and Caroline's just going to hope no one has seen them. Klaus sets her on the bed, following her down and Caroline's hands race to his belt. He kisses her shoulder, "I thought you wanted a bath?" he asks, faintly mocking.

Well, that just won't do.

He sucks in a harsh breath as she works her hand into his pants, wrapping around the base of his cock. She tightens her grip and strokes, a throaty sound of pleasure spilling from her lips. Klaus' hips surge into her fist and he sucks in an audible breath.

Caroline awards herself a mental point because surely making Klaus Mikaelson lose his train of thought has to be considered an accomplishment. It's definitely something she's enjoying, more so when he starts tearing off his clothes, seams ripping and buttons flying.

She sits up to watch him, is pretty sure having him bare and tense before her isn't something that will get old so maybe, just maybe, she'll peruse those New Orleans listings he'd mentioned.

She's never been but it seems like the kind of town a girl who talks to dead people could call home.


End file.
